The Road Trip
by Faux Pax
Summary: Emma's first family road trip doesn't go quite as planed. For starters, it was never supposed to be a family affair. Manhattan Spoilers.
1. The Curse of the Crinkly-Eyed Smile

So I had a bit of writers block with Stardust. Nothing big, I just had to think up a chapter or two worth of filler before I get to the next really emotional chapter. Don't worry, as I started writing this, the ideas clicked into place.

This is based on a request I saw on Tumblr for a Manhattan speculation fic. I've tried to keep it as cannon as possible with the spoilers that have been leaked. If you don't like spoilers, please hit your back button now.

If you're still with me, this is a three-shot (maybe four, depending on the way the chapters all divide up). Enjoy and thanks again to my lovely beta Noam!

Let me know what you think!

* * *

Emma knew she should consider herself lucky that what Gold had asked for was relatively harmless, but that didn't stop her from being pissed. She had been back from the remnants of a post-apocalyptic fairy tale land for less than a week before Gold decided to cash in his favor.

A part of her was relieved that she hadn't been asked for more. If there was one thing she had learned since the curse broke, it was that Gold was unpredictable and dangerous. He had brought magic here and risked Henry to do so.

And that was why, no matter how much it killed her to be separated from Henry so quickly, she had told the kid the he couldn't come with her. He had begged and pleaded and she had almost given in, but she had held steady. Gold was dangerous and for all she knew his kid was worse. She couldn't risk having him around that.

Honestly though, she would have rather have the kid with her. His constant chatter would be infinitely better than sitting in silence next to a nervous Rumplestiltskin for eight hours. Emma didn't know what magic he worked to cross the border and really she didn't care. She just wanted this over with…preferably quickly. Half way through she was ready to kill him. He just sat there looking out the window and bouncing his leg.

After four hours of this, Emma's nerves were shot. It was time to do something drastic.

"So how old is this kid of yours supposed to be?" Making small talk with Gold should better than nothing, right?

Gold slowly looked over, almost dazed, like Emma's words had brought him out of deep thought. "That's difficult to say."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Really, Gold? You're going to have to do better than that."

For a second Emma thought Gold wouldn't answer but he just sighed and licked his lips before replying. "Bae was fourteen when we…were separated, but I don't know how old he is now. He could still be that fourteen year old boy he was when he left, or he could be much older."

"Wait a minute," Emma said, taking her eyes off the road just long enough to give him an incredulous look, "this entire curse existed to find this kid, and you don't even know how old he is? What if he's dead and all this was for nothing?"

Gold's eyes narrowed and Emma knew he had to have considered this before.

"He's not dead," his voice was tight, like he was struggling not to hiss the words at her, "When I created the spell to bring everyone here, I used a bit of his hair to anchor it to a time when he would be alive; otherwise we very well could have come through hundreds of years apart."

"It's been twenty-eight years since that spell was cast. A lot could've happened." It was cruel really, but Emma was having fun messing with Gold. It wasn't like there was much else she could do to get back at him for the timing of his favor…among other things.

"I'm well aware of that, Miss Swan," he said, not even trying to keep the contempt out of his voice, "but the spell I used to track him to Manhattan wouldn't have worked at all if he…"Gold couldn't say the word.

"Whatever," Emma muttered, "our deal is done even if he's in a nursing home or something. As long as it doesn't take as long as you seem to think…"

"I'm afraid I don't follow you, Miss Swan." He said, and Emma could tell he genuinely didn't understand.

That was the first hint that something was amiss, but she couldn't place exactly what, so she decided to continue and see where this conversation took them.

"If you didn't expect this to take so long, why did you pack such a big suitcase?" She said motioning to the backseat, where a huge, old-fashioned suitcase that looked like it was made out of carpet and an old lady's discarded wallpaper sat on the seat.

"That's not mine."

It took a few seconds for everything to register in her brain. If it wasn't his then…

She narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips, coming to a sickening conclusion and pulling over at the first possible opportunity. It wasn't hers and it wasn't Gold's, but it was there for a reason and if it better not be what she thought it was.

"Miss Swan?" Gold asked as they pulled into the parking lot of the visitor's center and Emma suspected he had come to the same conclusion she had…if he hadn't been in on it.

Emma got out of the bug, and jerked the driver's seat forward. Taking a deep breath, she unzipped the suitcase; already sure of what she would see.

Henry lay curled up asleep with a throw pillow and a little blanket, and Emma noticed that the corner had been cracked just enough to let in a fresh air supply.

A part of Emma was proud of the kid. After all, a good part of her life was dedicated to being sneaky, and he was doing a pretty good job of out doing both her and—she cut herself off there. Some things were better left unsaid…and unthought of.

Emma wanted to smack the affectionate amusement off of Gold's face, but somehow managed to restrain herself. Without a word, she took out her phone and snapped a quick picture before yelling her son's name.

Henry's head shoot up and he looked around, rubbing his eyes. "We there yet?"

Emma stood, arms crossed, staring at her son in furry.

"Henry?" Gold asked, his voice taking on a paternal kind of affection, "Where do your grandparents think you are?"

Henry looked down. "I told them I was staying with my mom."

"Henry!" Emma hissed, and the boy shrunk back.

"I just didn't want to lose you again. I just got you back." Emma wanted to be mad at him—really she should be—but she couldn't bring herself to yell at him. Hadn't she felt the same? She had just been trying to keep him safe.

"Are you going to take me back?" Henry muttered, looking down. The kid was playing her, Emma knew this, but that didn't change the results.

She sighed. "We're already over half way there."

Henry smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in an all too familiar way.

"Let's get this ugly thing into the trunk first," Emma muttered, popping it, "Where'd you get it anyways?"

Henry shrugged, grabbing the other end to push it out the door, "found it in the back of Mary-Margret's closet. It was filled with books with shirtless guys on the covers. They all had pages bent over."

Emma stilled and inwardly shuddered. Henry had found her mother's stash of Harlequins? Oh god. At least it wasn't conventional porn; that would have led to far harder questions to answer, and honestly, a part of her hoped Regina had already had 'the talk' with him, because that was something no parent wanted to do. If it came down to it, maybe she could ask David to talk to him…yeah, that would work.

"Why would anyone do that?" Henry asked her.

"Dog ear the pages? I guess she liked those parts." Emma bet she did. All those years with David in a comma, and she…was her mother. Emma shuddered again, still not used to the thought.

"No. I meant have so many books like that."

"You'll have to ask her." Emma muttered, deflecting the question as she motioned for Henry to get into the back of the bug.

Emma slid back into the driver's seat and looked over. Gold was laughing into his sleeve. To his credit, he was at least trying not to encourage the kid with his reaction, but that didn't keep Emma from noticing the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Just like Henry. Just like….

Damn it. What the hell was wrong with her? Why was she seeing Neal everywhere?

It didn't matter. All that mattered now was getting this stupid errand over with and getting back to her family. Easy, right?

"Hey kid," Emma said, taking out her cell phone and tossing it onto the seat beside Henry. "If you're coming with us, you're going to have to be the one to call David and Marry-Margaret and tell them what you did."

Henry sighed; not looking happy about it, but wisely didn't say anything.

"And you have to tell Regina, too."

Emma watched in the rearview mirror as Henry's face fell. Regina had been just as adamant about Henry staying in Storrybrooke as Emma had been. Good. She can yell at the kid.

* * *

They parked at a hotel at the edge of the city, and took a cab the rest of the way. Emma didn't want to drive around, lost in New York. She didn't have the patience for that. Luckily for her, Gold took her suggestion in stride.

The spell had given them an address—some small apartment building in little Italy, and Emma had to wonder why Gold even needed her to come along in the first place. But whatever. It paid a debt.

Emma pretended not to notice the slight shake in Gold's stance. He was nervous as hell and, in a way, Emma could relate. If she had known Henry was coming that day, she probably would have ran; but if she had somehow managed to keep herself from bolting, it would have been just as bad for her.

"Are you okay?" Henry asked, looking up at Gold.

"It's just…what if he doesn't want to see me?"

Really? He dragged them all the way out here to chicken out now? Oh hell no.

"That's what I thought when I went to find Emma, but you won't know until you try." It was odd seeing Henry giving Gold advice like that, but it was strangely fitting. Emma couldn't pretend it didn't hurt to hear Henry talk about self-doubts he had never before mentioned. Doubts that always had to have been there.

"How did you do it?" Gold whispered, sounding more vulnerable then Emma was comfortable with. "How did you face the possibility that she would reject you?"

Emma's heart constricted at the memory. How she had pushed him away to begin with. It had been for his own good, of course…and so she didn't have to face her guilt…but that didn't make it any easier to think about how much it would've hurt him.

Henry smiled his smug little smile, "I didn't give her a chance."

Gold gave a brittle smile and nodded. He took a deep breath and walked towards the door, ran his fingers over the brass nameplates, and pressed the button by the correct apartment.

"Baelfire?" he asked tentatively, his voice shaking.

"Fuck." A voice called from the other end, and the line went dead. There was something familiar about the voice, but Emma didn't let herself dwell on it. It was probably just some subtle similarities to Gold's she was picking up on.

The pain on Gold's face was so blatant and raw that Emma couldn't help but feel for him…not that she completely blamed this Baelfire for his reaction. From all she had heard, Gold was quite the character before coming to Storybrooke. Even more then he was now.

Emma had wondered why he didn't bring his girlfriend with him for moral support. Wouldn't that be more fitting for a family affair? Gold had actually given her one of his rare straight answers when she asked. Things were going to be awkward enough without introducing the boy to his possible new stepmom…a step mom who very well could be younger than him. Small steps.

There was a banging noise coming from the side of the building' and they moved a few feet to the right to see what it was. A man wearing a dark hoody came bounding down the fire escape.

Gold's face lit up, no doubt expecting his son to come rushing into his arms like something out of a daytime drama, complete with overly dramatic background music. Not quite. Bae jumped over the railing, completely ignoring the existence of the last few steps and landing on his feet before taking off at full speed…in the opposite direction.

Emma sighed. In a way she saw this coming. As much right as the guy had to his issues with his father, Emma wanted to get home, and that wasn't going to happen if they had to play a game of "where's Baelfire" in the middle of Manhattan.

"Watch him." She said to Gold, motioning to Henry as she took off like a bat out of hell after Baelfire.

She actually hadn't missed this part of old her job—chasing criminals down city streets. Emma wouldn't deny it could be fun when she had things planned out beforehand. Maybe boot the bastard's car, so she could just stroll up to the scum and get what she came for. But when she wasn't prepared that's when things really sucked.

That trip to the Enchanted Forest had gotten her back into shape after months of a relatively cushy desk job, so chasing after the fool wasn't as bad as it could have been. But what in the world had possessed her to wear a skirt today? Oh right. She had been trying to dress a bit more like Mary-Margaret in an attempt for not being able to call her 'Mom' just yet. Real smart, but it wasn't like she had planned a chasse today.

After two blocks, and just as many alleys, she called out to him, "Damn it, Baelfire, stop!"

She hadn't expected him to listen. They almost never do, but he did. He stopped and turned his head almost as if he recognized her voice.

Unfortunately for both of them, Emma had been steadily gaining ground so that when he stopped there hadn't been much room between them. With a solid thud, Emma barreled into him, sending him flying face first into the plethora of trash. The first thing she noticed about him was that he was solid and muscular, not the rather stringy build of Gold. The second was his scent. A musky mix of heat and soap and something else—something that was just him.

Something she could never forget, no matter how much she wished to. No matter how much she tried.

In that moment she knew who he was, even before he got up, and even before she saw his face. Her stomach twisted at the Irony…or was it all part of the story…all part of Gold's plain.

"Neal?" She whispered.

Emma didn't believe in god, not really. She had long ago decided that if he did exist, he didn't care about people in general, and certainly not her. If he did, she would have had one person—just one—in her life who loved her, because for so long all she had known was abandonment.

That didn't stop her from praying in that single nanosecond to whatever higher power would listen, that she was wrong. That this wasn't him. That her life wasn't coming crashing down around her head for the umpteenth time because of him.

He slid his hand around to rub his neck and in the process push his hood back.

He hadn't changed a bit. Not really. It was still the same eyes, the same smile, as it was ten years ago…as she was forced to see reflected every day in Henry's face.

"Emma?"


	2. The Beautiful, Horrible Truth of the Ora

Hey guys. Just wanted to get this out before OUAT comes back. There have been a lot of people asking if I'm counting this. Yes, I am. After this chapter there is ONE MORE left and then I'm going back to Stardust.

Enjoy.

* * *

The Beautiful, Horrible Truth of the Orange Numbers

* * *

The sound of her name on his lips turned Emma's blood to ice. Everything inside her felt frozen, and not the tired and slow kind of freezing that happened every so often to the poor sobs who got buried by snow in some avalanche. This was the piercing ice of artic water seeping into every pore. That one word brought back all the pain and all the betrayal, tearing at her insides until her heart was nothing but ribbons behind the walls.

She would be lying if she said she hadn't fantasized about this moment. That a small, naive part of her had always imagined running into his arms and forgetting anything bad ever happened.

It was the same part of her that had forced her to spend two years in the city they had planned to call home searching for him, waiting to hear that it had all been a mistake, and that he hadn't really turned her in. That the fence had beaten him up and decided to completely screw him over after he was an idiot and mentioned her part of it all. That maybe someone had overheard them making plans in the park and told the cops. Or hell, that he had been hit by a fucking bus. Anything but the truth.

Over the years, that part of her had gotten smaller and smaller, until there was no hiding behind her delusions

But to run into him now? A part of her half expected someone with a camera to jump out from behind a pile of trash and yell "gotcha", like it was all some sort of prank arranged by Gold for his own twisted amusement.

There was no son…there never had been, but Emma had been so _sure. _Nothing about what little the imp had told her had sent any warning bells blaring in her mind, and Gold had never seemed the kind of person to allow himself to be vulnerable, unless it was for a really good reason.

None of this was making any sense. Unless…

"You're Baelfire?" She muttered, the words more a spoken thought then an actual accusation, her mind still completely unable to grasp the idea.

He swallowed, eyes wide, and for a second Emma was reminded of Henry, that time he overheard her telling Regina that she thought his obsession with the curse was a bit crazy…oh god, Henry.

There was no way the truth wouldn't come out and, as much as a bastard as Neal was, she wasn't really concerned with what he had to say when he figured out the truth (and Emma wasn't enough of an idiot to try and pretend he wouldn't). What worried her was Henry's reaction.

He would hate her, and for the second time it would be Emma paying for Neal's bullshit…and she could not let that happen.

"I haven't gone by that name in a very long time." Neal said, pulling her out of her thoughts.

She didn't even give those words a second to register; her mind was still reeling over the shock of all this.

"God damn it, Emma!" Neal said, pressing the palm of his hand against his noise to stop the blood flowing down his face. It had been an automatic response, hitting him in the face like that, but Emma wasn't even sorry. He had earned it and a lot more.

An idea struck her like divine inspiration. There was one way to keep him away from Henry, from hurting him just as he had destroyed Emma all those years ago. Today was a day for the past to resurface, and there was a really good chance he still had a federal warrant out for his arrest.

"What's to stop me from turning your ass over to the Feds? Huh?" She said, uncomfortable with the tightness in her throat. He wasn't worth her tears…but he had them anyways.

"If that's what you want." He whispered and Emma barely kept herself from hitting him again.

He didn't get to do that. He didn't get to sound vulnerable and lost and in pain too; not when he was the one to cause all of this. The way he was looking at her though, it reminded her so much of that day in the hotel room when he had spun the yarn that was Tallahassee from the crap that was their lives.

It had been that moment that had made her realize that she loved him, even if she hadn't said it right then. It had been then that she had seen the cracks around his care-free exterior; that she had really understood that he was just as fucked up as she was.

But it had all been a con. She got the car and prison, and the unimaginable pain of having to give up the best thing that ever happened to her because she wasn't what was best for him. Neal got the cash and was living the life, doing who knows what.

Seeing him, though, had awakened that naive little part of her that she had been sure life had killed more times than that one kid from Southpark.

_Is he living the life? _That small voice asked almost as if it knew the answers the rest of her didn't give a rat's ass about_. Neither of you got Tallahassee. _

"Let me buy you a drink and explain everything and then…then, if you want still want me to, I'll turn myself over to the feds, or go with you to Storybrooke or whatever else you decide."

"What? How do you know about—"

"Just listen."

Her eyes flashed with anger, while that small corner of her heart sung with joy. He had no right to ask anything of her, but maybe there was a good explanation…and it had better fucking be good.

"Please, Emma?" he said, his brown eyes wide, "One drink, that's all I ask."

She wanted to tell him no, to go to hell, to go fuck himself, but she didn't. Almost before she even realized she was doing it, her head bobbed slowly, nodding her consent. Neal walked to the end of the alley, leading her a bit farther away from the apartment as he tried to reset his noise into place.

"You've got one hell of a right hook. What have you been doing? You take up boxing or something?" He asked, holding open the door of a little pub for her. It was an attempt to lighten the mood and make things a little less awkward between them, but she wasn't having it. He had already gotten her to agree to hear whatever story he cooked up for this one; she wasn't giving him anything else. One victory was enough for the day.

"I'm a bail bonds person. You know, catching crooks and that sort of thing." Her tone was conversational, but her words were not.

"Oh."

* * *

Rumplestiltskin was no stranger to fear, in fact, for most of his life, they had something of a complicated relationship. The fear had been like a parasite—a tapeworm he had never been able to get rid of, even as it consumed everything of substance in his life, leaving him alone and emotionally emaciated. He had never been able to stand up against it, not when Millah left, not when he abandoned Bae, not when he pushed Belle away. Why had he thought today would be any different?

Perhaps because this was Bae, because even as a boy he had always been the kind of man Rumple had aspired to be, and always fell short. Perhaps because Gold had kind of hoped that his mere presence would be enough—that all he had to do was find him, and Bae would be the one to reach out, to come those last agonizing feet and tell him it's all right; that everything was better now that they were together.

But to have him run like that had cut into Gold worse than anything he could remember, in this world or the last.

_What if he never wanted to be found? _The dragon named fear cackled over his shoulder, his posture sagging with the weight of the implications. _What if he was glad to be rid of you? What if he was happier without you? He is his mother's son, after all. _

It wouldn't be so bad if he knew why Bae had ran…if he knew what he needed to do to make it all better. And Miss Swan's text message hadn't done much to assuage any of his fears. **Apt 4B. Unlocked. This is going to take a while. **

He had tried calling several times (he never could figure out how to work the text messaging feature on his phone), but it had gone directly to voicemail every time. According to Henry, that meant she had turned her phone off.

His mind raced. Take a while? Why would it need to take a while? Did Bae hate him that much? Was he truly that unhappy to see him? Was that fleeting glimpse of his son running away from all he was ever going to get?

The thought churned his stomach and sent his mouth dry at the same time. Had it really come to this? Was—

"Mr. Gold?"

Henry stood looking at him, and it was only then that Rumplestiltskin realized that he had been standing there, his hand on the doorknob, for quite a while.

Gold smiled at the boy and opened the door, reminded not for the first time of how much he reminded him of Bae at that age. Rumple had never really realized it until after Bae had left, but in a lot of ways it had been his son who took care of him, rather than the other way around.

It had been the little things that Rumple hadn't noticed before he were gone that had mattered so much. Like the way Bae had never asked much about his mother or why the others in the village had ostracized Rumple, even though he could tell the boy wanted to, or how he insisted on finding some sliver of light in even the worst situations…how he had always tried to give Rumple as much strength as he could, just when it looked like Rumple needed it most.

"It's small," Gold muttered, not really talking to anyone.

"What's wrong with that?"

Gold sighed, "I had kind of hoped he had a family of his own."

Henry smirked, "Did you hope you had grandkids you could spoil?"

Rumple couldn't deny the truth in the boy's words. In times of idle thought, he had imagined that, even if he couldn't get his boy back when he was still a boy, he could make up for it all with the next generation. Now that he could give them everything he could never give Bae AND be a part of their lives. But replacing Bae hadn't been the point of those fantasies, not by far.

"I just wanted him to be happy." _I just didn't want him to be alone. _

"Just because he's alone doesn't mean he's not happy," Henry said, clearly trying to cheer him up, but Gold wasn't fooled. The kid knew too much about being lonely and how different it was to be surrounded by love, to truly believe that. "And even if he's not," he said, switching tactics, "now he has you back, so he's not alone. His family has found him now."

Gold watched as Henry began to look around the room, curiously examining everything; he couldn't help but wonder, how was it so easy for children like Henry and Bae (children in general really) to find so much light, when all he saw was an ocean of darkness? When had he lost that ability…or had he been one of those poor souls that had never had it to begin with?

He followed Henry's lead, desperate to find any trace of his Bae. But all that was here was an amalgamation of eclectic things. There were no pictures on the wall, no real order to the books or music on his shelves, and nothing that was overtly personal. This room gave Gold no more clues as to the man his son had become then the glimpse of his fleeting silhouette had as he raced down the alley.

As Gold walked around, his cane brushed against something small sticking out from under the bed. With a bit of difficulty, he stooped down to pick the box up. It was small, little more than an old cigar box, but something about the condition of the corners and wearing of the edges told him that Bae had kept the thing with him for quite some time. Perhaps even since he first arrived in this world.

Sitting carefully on the bed, he opened the box, knowing all the while that this had been what he had been looking for. These were the breadcrumbs that his starving soul was begging for.

There, resting a top everything else was the bane of his existence: the bean, clear as glass except the inside, cracked like a marble thrown too hard in a child's tantrum. He wanted to throw the demonic object as far as he could, maybe even use a bit of magic to hurl it into the moon or further into the void of space, but he didn't. It wasn't his to get rid of. Besides, hadn't the fact that Bae had kept it all these years meant something?

Gold had always know his son had a certain talent for drawing, and as much as it had pained him to be reminded of the similarities between him and Milah—as much as it had fed his consuming fear that one day he would lose Bae as he had lost his mother—he tried as much as he could to encourage it. When times were good, he would try his best to keep Bae well supplied in paper and colored inks (a true luxury in the poorer villages of the Enchanted Forest), although the boy had never asked for such expensive things. But Bae had deserved them and so much more.

The only thing Rumple had ever asked in return was for Bae to draw a self-portrait for him; it was the same self-portrait that had kept him company all the long centuries since Rumple had made the biggest mistake of his very long life.

Was it wrong of him, then, to be angry that the only drawling he saw in the box was one done of Millah, done on the thick, coarse paper of their world? It was amazingly detailed, considering how young he had been when she had left…but that was just it. She had left; she had completely walked out of his life, so why did she get this place of honor in his life?

_You abandoned him, too. _The dark dragon of fear whispered in his ear, _but you were worse. At least she didn't promise to be there for him. At least she didn't leave him completely alone in a strange, overwhelming world. A world that took particular pleasure in destroying the unprepared._

Gold swallowed bile and refolded the drawing, pushing it aside as he dug back into the box, hoping to find something—anything-to signal that Bae had missed him as much as he had been missed. His heart swelled when he found what he was looking for.

There was another piece of old-world paper, this time folded like a letter with the word "papa" scrawled across the back. He grabbed it and had unfolded one side of it, when something else in the box caught his attention. With all the reverence of a priest caring for the original copy of their holy book, he refolded the letter and put it in his pocket. There would be time enough for that later.

Buried deep in the box was a stack of photographs, not near as warn as the other treasures within, but somehow Gold knew that they were the most valued things in the entire collection. He could not say how he knew this, but that didn't make it any less true.

The first photograph was the one that had grabbed his attention so violently. It seemed to be one of those rare photos where the button had been pressed a second too soon or too late but the result was a hundred times better than anything posed snapshot could be.

The picture was framed cattycorner, and completely candid; but more importantly, it was of Bae, in his early twenties maybe, but there was no denying the resemblance. He was looking over his shoulder as he dragged the photographer (a young woman by Gold's best reckoning) towards one of those fake, tourist trap castles that dominated high end amusement parks, its glaring towers a prominent fixture in the background.

But more than that, it was Bae's face that was the focus of his attention. Even when everything was good, before the threat of war and the Dark One had ruined it all, he had never seen Bae smile that widely. You could count every tooth as he let out a full bodied laugh and the skin around his eyes folded like an accordion. He was free.

Gold felt the bed dip beside him as Henry sat down and looked in the box with interest. His next words shook Gold to the core, shattering everything he knew about the world.

"Hey, is that my mom?" He held up the next photo in the stack, the one Gold had been too busy to notice.

"It would appear so," he muttered, almost unable to keep his voice even.

"Wow' it really looks like they were in love."

And by god, did it. The only time Rumple had ever seen anything close to the wonder and joy on his son's face had been when he was six, a few months after his mother had left. Rumple had woken in the middle of the night, to find the boy's bed empty. After a few moments of heart-stopping fear, he had found Bae on the roof, knees drawn to his chest, looking up at a magnificent meteor shower that rained down upon the countryside.

"What are you doing? Get down from there, son, before you fall and bust your head wide open." Rumple had called in the night.

Bae hadn't protested as he scrambled over to the edge and dropped down onto the woodpile. The landing wasn't as sure as the boy had thought; he slipped and fell backwards onto the grass, and Rumple's heart stopped for the split second before he got up, shook the dirt off his cloths and slipped his hand into his father's.

"Look, Papa," he said, pointing, the look of wonder never leaving his face, "the stars are coming here."

"Now why would they do a thing like that?"

Bae had looked up at him with his big brown eyes, as if confused as to why he would even ask. "Because they want to be loved too."

It had seemed like such a small moment then, but it had been one of those memories that had carried Rumple through the centuries.

As much as he loved seeing Bae that happy, there were still a plethora of questions left unanswered. Predominately, how had they found each other out of the billions of people? Was it fate? Destiny? Could the fact that both their essences were used in the curse have drawn them to each other? Or was it by some manipulation of that fucking blue fairy?

It was hard to say, but in that moment Rumple was glad that even his magic had limitations. No one could fabricate love; not like the kind written across Bae face in the picture. Bottle it, harness it? Yes. But create it? Impossible. Even if they had crossed paths because of the curse, this love was real and genuine…and dare he think it, true.

Something else in the photo caught his eye and in that moment he was glad he hadn't eaten much today.

As Gold or Rumple, he had always had a certain talent for numbers, measuring something's worth, estimating just how much thread he could make from a certain amount of wool, doing math quickly in his head. Now he almost wished he wasn't. At least then he could pretend it was all a mistake, that he was wrong. But the bright orange numbers printed in the corner didn't lie, nor had his math.

After he had gained his memories, Rumple had taken a special liking to Henry, and not because of the pivotal place he had on the chess board that was Storybrooke, and not because he was the one most likely to get Emma to break the curse. The truth was that, from the moment he remembered his son, the boy had always reminded him so much of Bae, and not just in looks.

How was he supposed to know that Miss Swan's son, that the boy Regina raised—

Oh gods. Regina. He had given Bae's son—his grandson—over to Regina to raise. Out of all of them, she was the true monster. She had been the one to kill that which she loved most just to get here (her own father no less) and had put Henry in danger more than once in her quest to rid the town of Miss Swan.

It wasn't his fault. He didn't know. It wasn't his fault. He didn't know. It wasn't his fucking fault. He couldn't have known.

_But you still did it, dearie, _the serpentine voice said in his ear.

"Mr. Gold," Henry said getting, his attention. It was difficult for him not to break, to cry, scream, or tell the boy the truth, even at the cost of sounding like something out of a bad science fiction movie.

The boy held up Gold's cellphone from where he had set it on the bed as he looked through his son's things. "Mom just texted. They're on their way."

Oh Gods.

* * *

The walk back to the apartment was painfully quiet. Things had never been so tense between them, even when she had stolen his car. Their relationship had always been built on an easy banter that just wasn't there anymore, and that hurt…but not as much as seeing the woman Emma had become.

Physically, she hadn't changed a bit. It was what was underneath it all that hurt to see. She had built up a wall of loneliness and pain around her, and he couldn't help but wonder how much of it was his fault. Most of it, probably.

He had explained himself to her, explained everything from the Ogre wars to August's request and was completely honest. She had listened, seething, as she sipped her beer, but had said nothing. He didn't know if his tale had gained him any forgiveness in her eyes or not. When he was done, she just looked at her phone and told him it was time to go, that mask of anger and indifference still unreadable even to him.

"Emma," he said, getting her attention. Being this close to her—both crammed into the service elevator—and not speaking, was hell on him.

"What?" She spat, and he looked down, her anger and pain tearing him up just as much. He had expected it from the moment he called in that tip, but expecting it and experiencing it were two entirely different things.

"Don't mention anything about August to the old man." It had to be said, but it was more to fill the unforgiving silence between them.

Emma raised an eyebrow, clearly asking what the big deal was, but not granting him the sound of her voice.

Neal stepped closer and looked her straight in the eye, making sure she understood the truth of his words. "As much as I want to have words with the puppet—and trust me, we will have words—I don't want him dead."

"Oh come on, do you really think Gold would—"

"He's killed for less." He said, reaching for the handle to his apartment.

Facing the Dark One was the last thing Neal ever wanted to do, especially now. When he had come to this world, alone and confused, he had hated him…or at least hated what the magic had done to him. It had taken years and a lot of work, but eventually he had forgiven him. Holding onto that hatred wouldn't have helped Neal in this world—not when so many already thought he was nuts.

He had let it all go…that is, until he heard about the curse. Until he heard about what the Dark One (or Gold, or Rumpelstilskin, or whatever the hell he was calling himself now) had done to all those people…had done to Emma.

A part of him wanted to run, a part of him wanted to push the old man out the window, but all of him whished this wasn't happening. But that wasn't the case, and there was no escaping it now.

Taking a deep breath, he turned the knob.

The man he used to call papa was sitting on the bed, facing the window. As the old man turned to look at him, Neal turned his head, trying to find something—anything-else to catch his attention. It didn't take long. There, in the corner by his clock collection, was a boy, about ten or so.

He looked up and smiled.

"So you're Bae?" he asked, and Neal could hear the old man turning to face them. He was careful to give no indication he had noticed.

"I go by Neal."

The boy nodded and turned to Emma. "How come you didn't tell us that you knew him?"

Emma looked over at him, anger still in her eyes along with a hint of…fear? Neal didn't have time to wonder what that was about before she answered.

"I didn't know. How did you know that I knew him, anyways?"

The kid shrugged. "We found his pictures."

Oh. So the old man went through his things? Why was he not surprised?! from what Neal had heard, he had lost all notion of boundaries long ago.

"What pictures?" Emma asked, sounding slightly worried, and Neal couldn't help but roll his eyes. It's not like they ever took any that would physiologically damage the kid if he found them.

Speaking of which, who was this kid anyways? And why was he here? Could the old man have found a girl and settled down? If so, Neal was happy for him…or at least for whatever sliver of his papa that may or may not live within.

Now that the thought about it, it made sense. Dark hair, dark eyes. The kid could easily be his brother. The age difference was a little creepy, but if Emma could handle being the same age as her parents, then he could handle having a brother young enough to be his kid. Hell, stranger things have happened to him. Today.

"The ones from that time we snuck into Disney." Neal answered, as if it were nothing.

"You snuck into Disney?" the kid asked, impressed.

"It was embarrassingly easy." It was petty, but a part of him was kind of looking forward to being the cool older brother. After all, it was no more the kid's fault if he had a douchey parent then Neal's.

"Neal, shut up." Emma muttered, unamused.

She would have found it funny before.

The kid looked at her and tilted his head, and his voice took on a teasingly chastising voice. "You know, mom, that's not very nice."

Waite. What?

"Mom"? as in what you call the woman who gave birth to you? That didn't make any sense… unless…the time line fit too well for it to be a coincidence.

Neal looked at Emma, his eyes begging for an answer, not entirely sure what answer he wanted. The thought of her with anyone else stung even though he had told himself that he would be fine with it as long as she was happy. But the thought of her having been…

It didn't matter what answer he wanted. What mattered was the answer he got. He could see it in her eyes. The guarding, the accusation. He could read her thoughts so clearly it was as if she said them aloud. _Don't put this on me. You're the one that left. You're the one that fucked up. _

Neal took a deep, steadying breath.

"Look," he said, trying desperately to keep his voice casual, "I wasn't exactly ready for a road trip. Let me take a shower real quick before we leave."

It was a lie and they both knew it, because his hair had still been wet when she tackled him in the ally, but she didn't call him out on it. Not that he really gave her a chance. He just collected his things, pretending the old man wasn't even there, and headed out the door to the single bathroom shared by the entire floor. No one was in there, luckily.

He turned on the hot water, not even touching the other knob, and stepped in; half hopping the scorching water would wake him from this nightmare. It didn't, and he was left with the terrifying truth that literally brought him to his knees.

It didn't matter that he had been trying to do the right thing. it didn't matter that he had been setting her free to complete a destiny bigger then both of them—to help god only knows how many people out of a mess his father had created. All that mattered was that he had sent her to prison. Pregnant. With his kid.

It repeated like a mantra inside his head, a soul shattering chorus he just couldn't shut out. _Prison. Pregnant. Prison. Pregnant. Prison. Pregnant….and it's all your fault. _

He grabbed the unsoaped washcloth and pressed it hard against his mouth, hopping it would stifle the agonizing screams he just couldn't keep in. He kept screaming, tears mixing with the water. When he was done, spent and emotionally exhausted, he sat, letting the water wash over him, wondering 'what now?'


	3. Stars in the Dark

Alright, here it is guys: the end. And now I get to go back to Stardust.

Just a little disclaimer here, the letter at the bottom of the chapter isn't mine. It came from the Untold Stories Facebook game and I just had to include it. One, because it was heartbreaking, and two because it has a lot of influence on how I see Nealfire's character, especially given how little screen time he's had compared to some of the other characters.

By the way, did anyone else catch MRJ's twitter Q&A? Besides a whole bunch of stuff that made me fall even more in love with him, he kind of gave away the fact that he's in the REST of the episodes this season. Bo-yah!

Once again thanks to my lovely beta Noam for helping me with my less than perfect spelling and grammar.

Enjoy, loves.

* * *

Something was wrong here and Henry knew it, but he couldn't place just what it was. It was a lot of little things added up that didn't seem right. First off, his mom had insisted he get the front seat, even though every kid knew that if there was more than one adult on the trip, they were regulated to the back. It was just one of those undeniable rules of childhood.

She said it was because she wanted to give Gold and Neal a chance to catch up, and that made sense…or at least it would have under any other circumstances, but Henry wasn't blind. He could see Neal wasn't too happy to see his dad. He made a point to stay as far away from Gold as the cramped car would allow, and hadn't said so much as a word directly to him.

Gold hadn't been much better. He had been really quiet since seeing those pictures; actually, he hadn't said a word since. Besides throwing a few really hurt looks Neal's way, he just sat, staring out the window. It was kind of creepy, really.

Henry knew that it was the pictures that had Mr. Gold's mind elsewhere. He was confused, too, but he was a smart boy; looking out the window wouldn't give him answers, and besides, what was going on in the car was a lot more interesting.

And it was the only way he would get any answers about the photos. Emma and Neal had loved each other—he was a kid, and even he could see that—but they didn't act that way now. At least Emma didn't. Neal, on the other hand, kind of reminded Henry of David and Mary-Margaret back when they thought they couldn't be together because the curse made them think he was already married to someone else. He would stare at her when he thought she wasn't looking, his face plastered with love and guilt even if he tried to hide it. Emma just ignored him though, keeping her eyes glued on the road, and trying desperately not to let anyone catch her glancing into the rearview mirror.

This was getting ridiculous, and frustrating. While Neal was in the shower, Henry had asked Emma a bunch of questions, but she had kept the answers short and didn't really tell him anything. All she had really said was that Neal "wasn't a good guy," but wouldn't tell him more.

That didn't fit with what Henry saw; Neal seemed really cool, even if Gold was his dad. But why would his mom lie? And why was she so mad?

Henry didn't think he was going to get those answers just yet, but that didn't mean he didn't have more questions.

"So, Neal," he asked, turning around to stick his head between the seats, "What was it like?"

"What was what like?"

"The Enchanted Forest," Henry asked, almost as if there was no other option.

"I've already told you," Emma said before Neal had a chance to reply, "There were Ogres and Giants and Chimeras…whatever those are—"

"That's after the curse," Henry said, and he somehow knew what she was trying to do. For some reason she was trying to keep Henry as far away from Neal as possible, even going as far as to put them on opposite sides of the small car. Henry just wished he knew why. "I want to know about before the curse."

"Yeah, Emma," Neal said teasingly as he stuck his head between the seats, resting his elbows besides each head rest, "He's talking about after the curse."

Emma slammed on the breaks and Neal lunged forward, almost bashing his face against the gear shift. Neal looked at her, demanding an explanation. Without answering, she just pointed to the traffic light ahead of them a second before it switched from yellow to red.

"You really should be wearing your seatbelt," she said, her voice almost too calm, "It's unsafe."

Neal said nothing. He just looked at Emma in the mirror and tilted his head towards Henry ever so slightly, almost asking if it was okay to answer. Maybe he saw something in Emma's expression that Henry didn't, because even though her face didn't move, he continued.

"Not much to tell, really. It was like living in the dark ages, and our village was kind of out in the middle of nowhere."

Henry's eyes narrowed a bit. Neal was doing the same thing Emma had been doing back at the apartment: side stepping every question.

"Oh come on," Henry cried, disbelieving. "Are you telling me _nothing _interestinghappened?"

The corner of Neal's lips twitched a bit as he leaned back up between the seats. "Well, I did hear that pirates came to town once."

"Really?" Henry asked, clearly interested. And honestly, who wouldn't be? Even Gold turned away from his musings to listen to what Neal had to say. "What happened?"

Neal shrugged. "It was before my time."

"Oh." Henry said, disappointed, as his shoulders slumped. There was a moment of silence before he turned his inquires to Emma.

"Can we stop to get something to eat?"

"No. I just want to get back home and—" Emma began irritably, but stopped when Henry's stomach gave a loud, wild growl.

Emma turned to look at him, "When was the last time you ate?"

"Er—this morning?" He looked down, sensing he was in trouble.

"Dear god, Emma, you didn't even pack a sandwich or something for the kid?" Neal asked, and Emma narrowed her eyes, almost as if she were considering slamming on the breaks again.

"The kid," she hissed, "wasn't even supposed to come."

"So then how did he manage to con his way into the trip?" For some reason, Neal didn't seem particularly surprised that Henry had managed it.

"He hid in the back seat."

Neal snorted. "Emma, when are you going to learn? You always check the back seat. There might be perverts living there."

Henry didn't get it and neither did Gold, but neither of them asked for any clarification. Emma got it, though, Henry could tell by the way her lips twitched almost unnoticeably as she tried to keep from smiling. He wasn't the only one to notice either. Neal's face spread into a wide grin, half victorious and half ecstatic.

"Young Henry hid in a rather large suitcase that Miss Swan assumed was mine and I assumed was hers."

For the first time that day, Neal stopped pretending Gold wasn't with them. He looked over and tilted his head, a bit surprised. "Really?"

Gold's eyes widened the tiniest bit, just as surprised as the rest of them, and nodded. Neal laughed, holding out his hand to give Henry a high five. Emma did slam on the breaks this time, however, and Neal's face smashed against her head rest.

"Don't encourage him, Neal," she said as she turned off the car. With all the fun inside, no one had really noticed that she had pulled into the parking of one of those home-style dinners—kind of like Granny's, but not as cool.

Watching the adults reminded Henry of that time Mary-Margaret taught the class about magnates and polarity—how sometimes magnates would be attracted to each other but other times they just pushed each other apart. Every time Gold tried to bridge the gap between him and Neal, Neal would take a single subtle step away. Every time Neal tried to get close to Emma, she would do the same.

It was annoying, really, but Henry knew it wouldn't last…the only empty seats in the small, crowded dinner were in a booth in the far corner. They weren't going to be able to keep up this odd dance for long.

"You guys go ahead and order. I've got to go to the restroom." Emma said, not even taking a place at the table.

"You want anything?" Neal asked as young waitress in a very small top came over to take their orders.

"I'm not hungry." She replied, not even turning around.

Neal clearly didn't believe her, but said nothing as she walked away.

"What can I get for you?" The waitress looked at Neal, and Henry had to wonder if she had something in her eyes, because she was blinking a lot…like a LOT, a lot, But Neal just ignored her and let Henry and Gold order first.

When it was Neal's turn, he turned to face Henry and asked, "Your mom still likes grilled cheese right?"

"Yeah, but she said she wasn't hungry."

"She was lying," Neal said, not missing a beat as turned back to the waitress. "Can I get a grilled cheese and tomato soup for Emma and a cheeseburger for me? Thanks."

"Sure thing."

"Wait," he said as she turned to leave, "can I get a slice of pumpkin pie?"

"Sorry, honey," she said as she smacked her gum, "we're out."

"What, really?" Neal said, sounding a bit like a whining kid. The waitress just shrugged and walked away.

Something cold and slimy took hold in his stomach. That was the last piece, but it just left Henry with more questions. Why didn't anyone tell him? Why did Emma act like she hated Neal?

But more importantly then that—more importantly then all of it—why had she lied?

"Excuse me; I got to go to the bathroom."

* * *

Well fuck, this was awkward. First Emma had left and then Henry, leaving Neal sitting alone in a dinner across from the one person he had hoped never to see again. It was like something out of his nightmares. But it was true. All of it. Neal had secretly pinched himself too many times today for him to actually be dreaming.

"Bae—"

"Don't." Neal could feel the anger in his eyes as he glanced towards the old man. He had tried so hard and for so long to let go of all this hatred, all this anger, that he was rather disappointed in himself for letting it show so easily…although if anyone deserved it…

"Just don't." This time it was little more than a whisper. A public place like this wasn't the right forum for this conversation. Not when it would inevitably end in blows or tears…or both. No. It was far better to save it for some place in Storybrooke. At least there they knew the sheriff and could probably get out of getting arrested for assault.

Or not. Thanks to this bastard's curse, Emma might just relish the opportunity to throw Neal's ass in a cell.

He had been kind enough to be near silent the entire fucking trip. Neal prayed nothing would change just yet.

Gold licked his lips and for a second, he was afraid the old man would say something, would insist on having the very conversation Neal wanted to put off as long as he could—forever if possible—but he didn't. He just gave a broken little nod and glanced out the window.

There was about a half minute of silence before the old man pointed. "What's Henry doing?"

Neal's head snapped around, and sure enough, there sat Henry in the front seat of the old bug. He wasn't doing anything Neal could see, but that's not what had him worried. What bothered him was the fact that Henry had said he was going to the bathroom and, even though he had only known the kid for a few hours, Neal knew that one of two things were happening. Either the kid was up to something or something was wrong.

Without excusing himself, he walked out, marching towards the closest thing to a true home he had ever had, to have his first real conversation with the son he never knew he had. It was a heavy, overwhelming thought, but he didn't let it slow him down.

Even in the almost literal five minutes he had known he was a parent, he knew the number one rule of the job: the kid came first.

Neal sat in the driver's seat beside him, watching, unsure what to do. Henry was clearly upset. He sat curled in the seat, his knees pulled as tightly to his chest as possible with his head resting on his knees. There was something heartbreakingly vulnerable about his posture, and it took Neal a moment to realize just what: Henry was dry sobbing, trying so desperately not to let anyone see. Neal reached out to touch him, hoping to grasp him on the shoulder, to tell him it was all going to be alright, even though the newfound father's words had failed him.

Henry jerked back, almost instinctually, and Neal dropped his hand to his lap. Of course the kid wouldn't want comfort from him—they were practically strangers.

Lost, Neal just sat there in the cold and the silence for a second before Henry stopped shaking long enough to talk. Slowly, with a devastated look on his face, he turned to Neal.

"My mom lied to me," he whispered, even more lost then Neal felt. "Why would she do that?"

Neal didn't know what Emma had lied about, but somehow he could guess. The kid had figured out what no one said aloud. He had figured out the connection between them, that Neal should have been there and wasn't, and whatever lie Emma had told to cover his ass…again. Once again, Neal was the cause for so much pain.

But the thing was, he wasn't one hundred percent sure that's what was going on. It could have been something completely different, and he didn't want to tip his hand so soon—not before he and Emma got a chance to talk again.

At the pub, it had been different. Then, it had just been mostly Neal begging her to understand why he did what he did. Why he felt there was no other choice, but soon the conversation was going to have to take on an entirely different tone. He knew about Henry now, and they were going to have to talk this one through. Neal wasn't going anywhere this time, and he wasn't convinced he would be able to stay away…even if Emma asked.

"What about?"

"She said my dad was dead." Henry looked at him, his face red and blotched. "Why would she say that?"

Neal sighed, not entirely sure what to say. He knew the feeling: the hurt and betrayal. When he had found out that his own mother wasn't dead, that she had just ran off, it hurt, but not near as much as it had when he realized that his father had lied to him. Even as a boy, he had understood the reasons behind it, but that didn't make it any easier to swallow.

"Maybe she was doing it to protect you."

"From what?" Henry half screamed, half cried. It broke his heart to see the kid like that, and really he had no idea what to do. Should he go behind Emma's back and clear the air, or wait for her to make her move. It was a snap decision, but one he knew was right. Emma was the love of his life, and he knew from the moment he betrayed her that, if he ever got a chance to make it up to her, he would do anything.

But the kid came first…no matter what Emma had to say about it.

"What gave it away?"

Henry gave a sharp intake of breath, as if he hadn't been entirely sure he was right until Neal confirmed it. A little part of Neal was annoyed that he could have just let it go. He could have played it off and not risked Emma's wrath. Mostly though, he was relieved to have it all out in the open. The kid deserved the truth and nothing else.

"The pie."

"What?" Of all the things, that was the last thing he expected to hear.

Henry whipped his eyes with his shirt sleeve. "She said you always complained when there was no pumpkin pie. It was probably the one part of that story that was true…"

Neal really wanted to ask for the rest of the story out of a morbid, masochistic form of curiosity, but he didn't. He could ask Emma later; Henry didn't need to dwell on her well-meant betrayal.

"Why did she lie?" he asked again, this time more forceful then before, his anger spreading to Neal too, "What did she think she had to protect me from?"

Neal tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry. It was odd, but he found this almost as hard as turning in Emma, that hellish night. This truth was so much smaller in the grand scheme of things, but that didn't help. All he could do now was pray that Henry was more forgiving then his mother. It was devastating enough to have her hate him…

"I made her get into trouble for something I did." Neal kept it vague, hoping Henry would give him some clues as to just how much he knew about it all. It wouldn't do to traumatize the kid by telling him his mom had gone to prison if he didn't have to.

"Is that why she went to jail?" Neal's eyes shot up and he nodded. Apparently the kid knew more than he had expected.

"Why would you do that?" Neal couldn't tell if the roughness in the kid's voice was accusation or just left over from his crying spell, and frankly, Neal didn't want to know. Just in case…

He stared at the kid, studying him, trying to measure how much of the truth the kid needed and how much he could handle. He had always been good at reading people, and he forced himself to trust his instincts over his fear of hurting the boy.

Henry was a lot tougher then this: he could handle it all. And that's what Neal told him. The car. The Bonny and Clyde days. Tallahassee. The watches. August. The postcard. All of it.

There was a moment of silence as the kid let the truth sink in.

"Does mom know all this?" the kid asked curiously. There was no judgment in his voice, just a desire to understand.

Neal nodded, "But she's still mad. I get it, really I do, but that doesn't make it any easier."

"But you two still love each other, right?"

How the hell was he supposed to answer that? The kid's thoughts were written all over his face with a vividness to rival a sharpie marker. He wanted to believe that it would all work out, that Neal and Emma would get back together, that true love would always win in the end. And Neal wanted to believe it, too, but he had lived in this world for too long. It didn't always work that way.

Emma may never forgive him—it was a horrible truth, but one he had accepted long ago. After what he did, he wouldn't blame her, but he still hoped… and that was the problem. He still loved her more than anything, but he couldn't speak for Emma and he wasn't going to lie to the kid.

"I still love her, yeah."

It was all he could give him. That one incontrovertible truth, and Henry saw that.

"She still loves you, too," he said after a moment of silence, and Neal looked over at him, more than a little taken back at his words. He had been looking, searching for a sign all day that he wasn't the only one still in love, but all evidence had come back inclusive. Either she felt nothing and was being civil for Henry's sake, or she did still love and was just trying desperately to hide it. If it was the latter, her poker face had gotten better over the years.

So what had the kid seen that he hadn't?

"What makes you say that?"

Henry gave a knowing smile and looked around a bit theatrically. "She kept the car, didn't she?"

Neal blinked, completely caught off guard at the simplicity of the answer. It was such an obvious thing, but the truth was, it hadn't really registered in his mind. Perhaps he had been shocked, or perhaps the thoughts of Emma and the car had become so intertwined in his mind that he couldn't picture her without that one piece of him by her side. Either way, the kid was right. She could have sold it and used the money to buy another one—perhaps something newer—but she had kept that little yellow bug.

He couldn't argue with that logic, and Henry took his silence as his cue to give a wide smile—the kind that reached all the way to his eyes.

"It's kind of awesome, two of the only people in this world who are from Fairytale Land and not cursed finding each other."

To Neal that idea wasn't as romantic as the kid made it out to be. Were there such things as coincidences, or was this all a part of the plan? Had the old man manipulated things in some sick, twisted attempt to make it up to him? Was Emma supposed to be some sort of peace offering?

He had thought about this every day for eleven years, and had only been able to come to one conclusion: he didn't want to know. If he didn't know the truth, he could choose to believe the kinder of the two options, he could rely on some of the old stories he had grown up with to explain away some of the crazy.

"Maybe it's not a coincidence at all," Neal said, watching as Henry turned to look at him. The kid hadn't thought of the deeper implications. Good. With any luck, they will never cross his mind.

"There's a story in the Enchanted Forest—or at least the part I was from."

He paused, licking his lips. It had been a long time since he had thought of home in any other context besides the place where his nightmares started, and his memories was a little rusty.

"When humans were first created, they had four arms, four legs, two heads and one heart. The goddess of creation decreed they were prefect and complete in every way, and they lived in paradise; the goddess spent her time watching them, much as a mother would watch her children at play.

"The god of destruction, however, was getting frustrated. His wife was spending all her time with her new pets, and he was left all alone in the black void between worlds. One day, an idea struck him and, calling upon his magic, he summoned an enormous burst of wind to sweep the humans out of paradise and into the empty world below.

"The goddess was furious, for once her pets had touched unholy ground, they could no longer be welcomed back into paradise, but she would not strike at her husband. No, she had a better idea. Since her pets couldn't be brought back to paradise, she decided to bring it to them.

"She cried, and where her tears fell, magic grew into all the different kinds of plants and animals. From then on, the humans worked for their survival, learning to harvest the plants and tame the animals. It was hard work, but they never complained. Why would they? They were never alone.

"This did nothing to calm the god's temper, for his wife still spent all her days watching over the humans and he was still lonely. He cursed the land, convincing some of the animals to turn and try and eat the humans, and some of the plants to churn their stomachs with poison.

"The goddess saw what her husband had done, and bade animals to become loyal and docile for the humans and plants to gain curative properties so that the evils of the god could be undone. And so it went. Every time the god would curse the world with something: plague, famine, death, jealousy, fear; the goddess would bless it with something just as good and beautiful as his gifts were ugly and evil: health, bounty, life, love, courage.

"One day, the god got angry, frustrated, and tired of this tug of war over humanity, so he cut the rope. He descended down into the world and ripped each person in half, one by one, leaving each creature with just one head, two arm, two legs and half a heart. Still not satisfied, he took each piece and hurled them in opposite directions, cursed to spend eternity looking for their other halves.

"The goddess could not fix it; she could not undo the carnage he had wrought. As she stood, holding the broken, bloody, pieces of her children in her hands, she was sure he had won…sure that her beloved creations were to be forced to live forever in pain, but then, as she watched a single star fall to earth, she had an idea.

"Leaning down, she whispered a promise into each ear that, although she could not make them whole again, she could guarantee them that no matter how brief there light was amongst this vast ocean of darkness, they would find each other at least once. The trick would be to recognize it through the evils the god had set forth in the world. As long as they were brave, truthful and unselfish, they could have their happy endings."

Neal sighed and looked over at Henry, wondering he had lost the kid in an ancient and probably fact-less tale of a world and time long gone, but the kid was enthralled, his eyes absorbing every syllable.

"You think any of it's true?"

In any other situation, it would probably have been a rather dumb question, but not now. Neal was from a place where magic was everywhere, and Henry's life was dominated by the impossible.

"I don't know, kid," he said, shrugging. Hell, he hadn't completely believed it when he lived in that world, but now it was a lot better of an answer than anything he wanted to think about, "But I'd like to think that Emma and I were flung particularly far."

"Speaking of which," he said, glancing back at the dinner, "Your mom should be back from the bathroom by now and we don't want her worrying that we've fallen through a portal or anything."

He winked at Henry and got out the car, and walked towards the dinner.

They were half way back to the table when Neal noticed the way Emma's eyes were narrowed as she stared at them. It was only then that Neal realized one very unpleasant? truth: now they were going to have to tell Emma that Henry knew…

Oh, this was going to be fun.

* * *

Neal watched the tail lights of the bug as it retreated down Main Street, leaving him and Gold standing on the sidewalk in front of the only inn in the town. A bitter part of him, still in shock, had to wonder how it all came to this. How he had managed to fuck everything up so badly, and honestly, he didn't even know where to start fixing it.

That's why he hadn't come to Storybrooke himself after getting that fucking postcard. He had been too much of a coward to face Emma's hate. God, what a fool he'd been! But then again, he couldn't have known, not that that excused anything.

"Bae," Gold began.

Neal's head whipped around, and for the first time in a long time, he let all the pain and hatred he had towards his father—towards the Dark One—come erupting to the surface.

"Don't you dare," he hissed, not caring about the way Gold flinched back at his words.

He had spent so long and so much energy trying not the hate him, that it felt good to no longer fight it. It was a relief to let it all go. Neal hadn't hated him, not when he changed, and not when he let go. He had been frightened, yes, and he had been hurt, but he had never hated him.

Not until August told him the truth about the curse.

Neal cared about what had happened to the rest of the people stuck here—really he did—but that wasn't what made him hate the old man. It was what he did to Emma that had sent his blood boiling that night. He had ripped her family from her, and it was a hundred times worse than that night with the bean.

At least Neal had fourteen years' worth of good memories…even if it was almost impossible to get to them through the nightmares.

And Henry…oh, god, Henry. Because of this curse Neal hadn't just lost Emma, he had lost Henry as well.

"The worst part of all this is that you don't even fucking realize what you've done." He hissed, running his hands through his hair before picking up his duffel bag and walking to the door of the inn.

His fingers had just brushed the cool metal of the knob when he heard it, Gold's broken whisper.

"I…I think I'm beginning to."

Twenty years ago, seeing his father so sad, so broken, would have killed him. Twenty years ago, he would have done everything he could think of to comfort him.

But it wasn't twenty years ago, and there was too much darkness for him to see the stars right now.

He opened the door, ignoring the sound of the little bell announcing his presence to the matron of the place, and turned to face Gold.

There was only one thing he could say, and he didn't even bother hiding the venom in his voice as he hissed a single word and shut the door.

"Good."

* * *

The call hadn't been what Belle expected. She knew that Rumple took the day to go looking for his son, and it was entirely possible that he would have asked her to meet him. It had been a rather frightening idea, but she had tried to prepare herself for it, mentally at least, but it had been almost impossible. For starters, Rumple hadn't even been able to say how old Baelfire would be. It was entirely possible that Belle could find herself acting as some sort of step mother to a teenager, but it was just as likely that he was her age or older.

When she hadn't heard from Rumple by ten, she had assumed that the trip had taken a bit longer then he had anticipated. Belle wouldn't pretend that she wasn't a little disappointed that he hadn't called to let her know, but she understood - he had a lot on his mind right now.

What she hadn't expected, however, was Ruby calling her at one in the morning, letting her know that Rumple was sitting there at the dinner, drinking himself into a stupor.

Belle knew what it meant before Ruby had even finished explaining the situation: the meeting between him and Baelfire had gone badly. She hadn't even considered it a possibility until now—how could someone not want their family back?—but then again, Rumple hadn't given her many details of what had happened and she hadn't asked. She understood that he had spent so long shut off from everyone that he wasn't comfortable sharing his life story. All she had asked from him was the truth, for him not to lie to her, even if he wasn't willing to go into deep details.

He sat at the bar, looking completely devastated, one hand tightly clutching a glass of dark brown liquid; a thick, dark piece of paper clutched tightly in the other.

Pulling her robe closer, she walked up to him and snaked an arm around his shoulders. She didn't have to say anything; he knew what she was silently asking. He flattened the paper out almost reverently before sliding it over to her. Belle knew it was the liquor that made him share the truth so easily, but she still accepted what he offered.

Although the words scrawled on the paper broke her heart, it could only have been a million times worse for him.

_Papa,_

_There are many things I want to say to you, things I think you need to hear, but I cannot bring myself to say them out loud. And I've tried, Papa, I've tried many times in all the ways I know how, but you won't hear me. Maybe it's because you don't want to hear these things. Maybe it is because you can't hear them anymore. Or maybe, maybe it is my fault. Maybe I have not tried hard enough, have not said these things clearly enough. But that is because…oh Papa…_

_I will try again now._

_I am afraid, Papa. I am too afraid to talk to you anymore. I am too afraid to be around you. I am afraid when you touch me. Afraid when you look at me. Afraid when I wake in the middle of the night to see you spinning at your wheel. I am afraid all the time. _

_But I remember a time when I was not afraid. When it was just you and me, and I was a boy and you were just a man and I could hug you when I felt alone. You wrapped your arms around me and they were warm, flesh and bone. Now, they are something else, something that makes me tremble to touch…_

_You protected me in your own way, and I loved you for it. Now, I worry I need to be protected from you. _

_I know that you think you have changed for the better. But the truth is, Papa, that you have changed entirely. You just killed two people,two innocent people, not because they were any real threat, but because you could. You are not my Papa at all. You are the Dark One, Rumplestiltskin, and that is how I think of you now. I must remind myself to call you "Papa" every time I speak, because I fear what you will do if I should slip and call you something else…_

_But I also know that deep down, underneath your power, is my old Papa, and I only hope I can see him again. I found a bit of hope today. Morraine spoke to me of someone I can talk to, someone who may be able to help. I am going tonight, and I pray she is right._

_I do love you, Papa, and I await the day that love is not tempered by fear._

_Your_

_Bae _

Belle slid the paper back into his hand and held him closer, pressing her lips to the crown of his head in comfort. It was all she could do, really. He was a private man, and she knew now was neither the time nor the place for her words. And really, what could she say? That it would all be alright in the end? She had faith that it would be, but that's not what he needed to hear right now.

Now he just needed someone to be there for him.

"Come on, Rumple," she whispered into his hair, "let's go home."

He did not protest as he slid off the stool and walked with her to the door.

Belle stopped at the door and turned her head around to face Red. _Thank you. _She mouthed to her friend, and Red just nodded, not asking for what. They both knew it was for everything. For calling her. For not asking questions. For not commenting on just how completely out of character it was for Rumple to be here.

Her apartment was right over the library, and that's why she decided to take him there. His home was too far to walk to, and she hadn't yet learned how to operate one of those…. cars. The library, however, was just down the street.

Although he tried to hide it, she could tell he was thoroughly drunk as he fumbled with the buttons on his jacket, quickly getting frustrated when they would not comply. With her help, his jacket, belt and shoes fell to the floor along with her robe.

Her bed was significantly smaller than his, but there was still enough room for them to both squeeze in.

"Oh Belle," he said, his voice breaking as she felt the top of her nightgown growing wet with his tears, "I've made such a mess of things and I don't know where to start fixing them."

She ran her hands through his hair, her fingers circling his earlobe as if he were a child who couldn't sleep. It pained her to see him like this, so completely broken, but she knew she couldn't fix it for him. This was between him and his son, and all she could do was this…be here for him in any way she could.

"You start by resting," she whispered, "you're exhausted and can't do anything tonight. That's a problem for tomorrow when you're thinking clearer, but I know your son loves you, and when people love each other, that is all they need. That love can be the stars in the darkness—it's what guides us through the night."

~~~ The End ~~~


End file.
